She shook her head. "Nothing. I prefer the peacefulness of feeling nothing. For every up there's a down and I hate the sadness of disappointment."
"Relationships don't have to be disappointing, Jinx. Far more often than not, they represent the sort of fulfillment most of us long for. Do you not think that's a goal worth pursuing?"
"Are we talking marriage and children, Dr. Protheroe?" she asked suspiciously. "Did Josh Hennessey tell you he fancied me?"
He chuckled. "Not in so many words, but he seems fond of you."
"He's far fonder of Meg than he is of me," she said dismissively. "Too fond, really. She treats him like a brother because business and pleasure don't mix, when all he wants to do is fuck her. Also, he was fond of his wife when he married her," she added tartly, "but he walked out on her four years later because he claimed she was boring. Is that the kind of fulfilling relationship you want me to have?"
"I doubt he'd find you boring, Jinx, but in any case, that's a side issue. What I think we're talking about is contentment."
She gave a low laugh. "Well, I'm a good photographer, and that makes me content. If I'm remembered for just one photograph, then that will be immortality enough. I don't need any other. It's a birth of sorts, you know. Your creation emerges from the darkness of the developing room with just the same sense of achievement as a baby emerging from the womb."
"Does it?"
She shrugged again. "I think so. Admittedly, the only birth I can compare it with was a rather messy business in the lavatory, but I imagine that going to term and producing a living child is somewhat more rewarding. Yes, I'd say the sense of achievement in those circumstances is not dissimilar." Her face was devoid of expression. "By the same token, I imagine there's the same sense of disappointment when the result of your hard work is less than you hoped for. Works of art, be they children or photographs, can never be perfect." She hesitated a moment. "I suppose if you're lucky, they might be interesting."
After that she had excused herself politely and walked outside, leaving Protheroe to wonder if she was talking about her own hopes of the child she had lost or her father's hopes of her. Although perhaps she was talking about neither. He reflected on the two unmarried brothers who still lived at home and who, if Jinx's closed expression when their names were mentioned was any guide, had little love for their intellectually gifted sister.
He was about to turn away from the French window and his contemplation of her seated, solitary figure when he noticed a man approaching across the lawn. Now where the hell had he come from? For no obvious reason, other than that he was responsible for Jinx's safety and she was clearly unaware that anyone was behind her, he felt a sense of imminent danger and, with a flick of his long fingers, turned the key in the lock and thrust the door wide. With farther to travel than the other, he raised his voice in a bluff bellow. "There you are, Jinx!" he called. "I've been looking for you."
Startled, she turned her head, saw her younger brother first, then looked beyond him to Protheroe. "God, you gave me a shock," she said accusingly as they both drew close. "Hello, Fergus." She nodded a welcome. "Have you two met? Fergus Kingsley, my brother-Dr. Alan Protheroe, my existentialist shrink. You're a very bad liar," she told Alan. "You've been watching me for the last ten minutes, so why the sudden panic?"
He shook Fergus by the hand. "Because I take my responsibilities seriously, Jinx, and for all I knew, your brother was a stranger to you." He folded his arms across his chest. "As a matter of interest," he said without hostility, "which way did you come in? It's a rule of the Nightingale Clinic that visitors seek permission at the front desk before approaching our guests. It's a simple courtesy but an important one, as I'm sure you'll agree."
Fergus reddened under the older man's stare. "I'm sorry." He looked very young. "I didn't realize." He gestured behind him to the other side of the lawn. "I parked by the gate at the bottom and walked up." He looked sullenly towards Jinx. "Actually, I was going to do the thing properly; then I saw you under the tree."
Jinx removed her dark glasses and squinted up at Protheroe with one blackened eye closed against the evening sunlight. "I don't recall my consent being sought before. It's a perverse rule that operates at the whim of the director."
He smiled affably. "But a rule, nevertheless. I shall have to make sure it's properly enforced in future." He nodded to them both. "Enjoy your visit. If you want some tea, your brother can order it from the desk and have it sent out." He raised a hand in farewell, then walked briskly back to his office.
Jinx stared after him. "I think he's madder than some of his patients," she said.
Fergus followed her gaze. "He fancies you," he said bluntly.
She gave a splutter of laughter. "Don't be an oaf! The man's not blind, and they do let me look in a mirror from time to time." She sobered suddenly and her eyes narrowed. "Actually, I hate the way he's always watching me. It makes me feel like a prisoner."
"Do you like him?"
"Yes."
"Is he married?"
"He's a widower." She frowned. "Why so interested?"
He shrugged. "You know what they say about psychiatrists and their patients. I was just wondering if he was going to be the next one in the Kingsley marriage stakes."
"Do me a favor, Fergus," she said crossly. "I don't intend to stay here long enough to develop anything more than a passing acquaintanceship with the man."
He leaned against the tree trunk. "So you're planning to come home."
"Go home," she corrected him. "Back to Richmond and back to the studio. Sitting around and doing nothing isn't what I'm best at."
"Is that supposed to be a dig at me?"
"No," she said mildly. "Oddly enough, Fergus, I am more interested in my own problems at the moment than I am in yours." She studied his sullen face, which was so like Miles's to look at but which lacked the charm that his older brother could switch on and off at will. "Did you have a reason for coming?"
He scuffed the grass with his foot. "I wondered how you were, that's all. Miles said you weren't too hot when he came, said you passed out when he was talking to you."
"It's just tiredness." She replaced her dark glasses so that he couldn't read the expression in her eyes. "Miles told me Adam made you cry. Is that true?"
He reddened again. "Miles is a bastard. He swore he wouldn't tell anyone. You know, sometimes I don't know who I hate more, him or Dad. They're such shits, both of them. I wish they'd drop dead. Everything would be okay if they were both dead."
It was the same childish cry she'd heard from him since he was five years old. Only the register of his voice was different. "Presumably Adam belted you again. So what did you do to make him angry?"
"It wasn't me who made him angry. It's you being in this place." He slid his back down the tree trunk to squat at the foot of it. "He just went overboard and started screaming and yelling at everyone. Miles cowered in the corner, as per bloody usual, and Mum sat and blubbered. Well, you know what it's like. You don't need me to tell you."
"But you must have done something," she said. "He might be angry about me and"-she gestured towards the building-"all this, but he's never belted you without good reason. So what did you do?"
"I borrowed twenty pounds," he muttered. "You'd think it was a hanging offense the way he carried on."
She sighed. "Who from this time?"
"Does it matter?" he said angrily. "You're as bad as bloody Dad. I was going to pay it back." His mouth thinned unattractively. "What nobody ever seems to recognize is that I wouldn't have to borrow money if Dad treated me like a human being instead of a slave. It's really degrading having to admit you're the son of Adam Kingsley when everyone knows you're earning peanuts. I keep telling him, if he'd only pay me a decent whack, I wouldn't have to resort to borrowing. I'm the boss's son. That should stand for something. Why do Miles and I have to start at the bottom?"